"I _might_ ha' shunted him on to the Armadillo at a pinch," he said thoughtfully, "_he_ wouldn't ha' taken any notice, but the gov'nor would have to be consulted first,--and he's engaged in the ring. Besides, it would take too much time to move old Rajah now--you must put up with him, that's all. You'll be right enough if you keep your head and stick close to me. I've taken care they've all had a good dinner. I say," he broke off suddenly, "you're looking uncommon blue." "I don't _feel_ nervous," I said, "at least, not more nervous than a man _ought_ to feel who's just about to be married. If you mean to suggest that I'm going to show the white feather----!" "Not you," he said, "what would you _get_ by it, you know? After billing this affair all over the town, we can't afford to disappoint the public, and if I saw you hanging back--why I'm blest if I wouldn't carry you into the cage myself." I retorted angrily that I would not put him to that inconvenience, that I was as cool as he was, and that I did not understand his remark that I was looking blue. "Lord, what a touchy chap you are!" he cried; "I meant looking blue about the jaw, that's all. If I was you, I'd have a clean shave. It's enough to put any lady off if she sees you with a chin like the barrel of a musical-box." Somehow I had omitted to shave myself as usual that morning, intending to get shaved later, but had forgotten to look for a hairdresser's shop during my walk. "You'll find a razor in that drawer," he said, "if you don't mind making shift with cold water, for there's no one about to fetch you any hot. Now I must be off and get into my own togs. Make yourself at home, you know. I'll give you another call later on." [Illustration: I was forlornly mopping when Niono returned.] Perhaps the razor was blunt, perhaps it was the cold water, anyhow I inflicted a gash on the extreme point of my chin which bled profusely. I dabbed and sluiced, but nothing I could do seemed to check the flow; it went on, obstinate and irrepressible. I was still forlornly mopping when Niono returned in his braided jacket, tights and Hessian boots, whistling a tune. "The bride's just driven up," he announced, "looking like a picture--what pluck she's got! I wish I was in your shoes! Ma'amsell's taken her to her room. My word, though, you've given yourself a nasty cut; got any spider's web about you? Stops it in no time." As I do not happen to go about festooned in cobwebs, his suggestion was of little practical value, and so I intimated rather sharply. "Well, don't get in a fluster," he said, "we're only a couple of turns off the Cage Act as it is; you slip into them spicy lavender trousers and that classy frock-coat of yours as quick as you can, and I'll try if I can't borrow a bit of courtplaster off one of our ladies."